The Cardiac Kid
by kelsoei
Summary: A Fire Nation prince is ashamed of who he is. Born with asthma, he is unable to generate the flames that the royal family are known for. The citizens mockingly call him the cardiac kid, and compare him negatively with his perfect older brother. Young Ozai burns for the chance to prove himself.


"Tell me how to fix him," Father commanded, behind a heavily decorated wooden door.

Ozai pressed his ear to the door. Please, please, please.

"There are some teas that might help his lungs," the doctor spluttered.

Ozai felt as if he had been doused by ice water. There was no curing his ailment. The doctor was a weakling and a fool. Father had already tried all the best pediatricians in the Fire Nation, what would a backwards Earth Kingdom witch doctor be able to do? Ozai had been stupid for getting his hopes up.

"But the problem is his heart," the doctor said. "It's… Well it's defective."

Ozai bit his tongue hard, until he tasted the iron in his blood. Ozai knew the man's words were true. He was defective. Broken. His very existence a stain on the royal family's honor. The doctors should have let him die when he was a baby. It was far, far better to be dead than weak.

"His lungs though, you can help them?" Father asked. "Will he be able to firebend?"

The doctor said nothing for a while. "Perhaps… Perhaps someday. Maybe a little."

"What does that mean?" Father asked. "Speak honestly!"

"Someday he may be able to generate the same flames as a seven year old. He may be able to bend for as long as two- no, no three minutes. But, he's still very good my lord, in his own way. His control, his ability to manipulate an existing flame is excellent. Better even than Iroh's-"

"Enough!" Father commanded. His voice had such power that the doctor stopped his rambling immediately. Ozai did not need to see the fat little man to know his expression: he had sweat curdling down his pasty nervous face. Ozai could only wish that he grew up to be half the man that Father was.

"Flame manipulation?" Father gave a cold laugh. "A parlor trick! Ozai is supposed to be royalty! His strength should be unrivalled. Instead I'm stuck with that… that… _thing_."

"He's just a bo-"

"Silence!" Father commanded. "That _boy_ is royalty. He must be strong! Not some snivelling little sickling."

Ozai would do two hundred pushups every morning. He would run fifteen miles a day. He already did a hundred pushups and ran ten miles, but it was not enough. It almost killed him, but it still was not enough. He had to do more.

"Are there any other methods to fixing him?" Father asked. "I don't care if they're dangerous. If they kill him all the better. He's second in line for the throne. If anything should happen to my son, the Fire Nation is doomed."

"With all due respect, Ozai is your son too-"

There was a whoosh of flames, and then silence. Ozai smirked, the foolish doctor had not realized who he was in the presence of. Someone with real strength. A firebender who could kill with the flick of a wrist. A true royal.

Smoke crept underneath the door's flat. Ozai's lungs filled with mucus. His breath became heavy. His chest got tight. No, no, no, not now. Don't cough, don't cough. He brought his hands to his throat. What good would they do? Don't cough, mustn't cough. Run? No, his legs felt numb. His vision started to blur. He dropped to his knees. He felt it coming, but he must not cough. His chest felt like it was going to explode. Please no. His throat started to tickle. His vision darkened. No, no, NO!

He coughed. He hacked. He did everything he could to clear his lungs and draw one more life giving breath.

The door creaked open. Father loomed above him, as tall and powerful as a god.

"What have I told you about spying?" Father yanked Ozai up by the collar. His golden eyes screamed murder.

Ozai tried to answer. He could only wheeze.

"Answer me boy!"

Father had warned him that espionage was a skill for the weak, it did not befit a royal, and if Ozai persisted in his habit Father would have no choice but to… To… But Ozai could not help it. Like it or not that was what he was. _Weak._ Even acknowledging his limitations he failed. A weakling of weaklings. Ozai deserved to die.

"Father, Ozai," Iroh cried, hugging the two of them.

Why hadn't his brother announced his arrival? When had he arrived? How much had he seen? Ozai answered his own questions immediately and silently. Iroh was capricious, probably just now, and presumably all of it.

"I'm so glad you two are finally getting along!" Iroh said jovially. If there was sarcasm in his voice, Ozai could not detect it, although he had always lacked skill in the more nuanced aspects of human interaction.

"Iroh," Father said warmly, putting Ozai down. "You've returned." Father gently pushed the door behind him closed, hiding the ashes of the dead witch doctor. He did it out of kindness, Iroh was always bothered by such things.

"How was the hunting trip?" Father asked

Iroh sighed and looked down at his boots. "Hunting a dragon was harder than I thought."

Father mussed Iroh's hair and grinned. "We all have setbacks son. I failed to capture the Avatar when I was your age. Even you can't win them all."

Ozai was filled with some unidentifiable emotion. He could not tell what it was but it was overwhelming.

"I looked all over the world for the last dragons," Iroh said, and pulled a blue boomerang out of his coat. "I searched the Poles with their savage warriors, and even spoke with the last waterbender in the Southern Water Tribe about sailing the open seas. But I found no dragons."

He motioned in some servants, who brought a cage with a winged bipedal monkey. "Next, I searched the Air Temples. A lonely experience, only animals remaining of a once great culture. I did see great herds of flying bison, and I could've sworn I saw a few air nomads gliding through the skies, like the airbenders of old. But again no dragons."

He handed Father a green crystal. "Finally, I searched the caverns of the Earth Kingdom. Giant badgermoles! Terrifying generals! Beautiful women!" Iroh grinned and winked. "But still no dragons. In the caves though, I found a wonderful type of candy. It is green and in its native habitat, can grow naturally. The earthbender who discovered them doesn't know if it is some kind of living animal or a rock possessed by a spirit. He was a mighty interesting fellow, that earthbender, he had a wonderful sense of humor and even threw me a feast! In a different world, I think we could have-"

"What happened next on your journey?" Father asked.

"Sometimes even a great general knows when a mission is lost," Iroh said. "I gave up and decided to sail home. On the way back, a lovely girl named Ursa asked me if I'd ever visited the temples of the first firebenders, the sun warriors. It was a marvelous idea, so I agreed to make a quick stop. But the temple was booby trapped. It seemed strange to me that an abandoned place was so well protected. I ventured deeper, and each trap became more deadly than the last. And at the center was the most deadly trap of all."

"For you, little brother," Iroh bent low, and pulled something out of his coat. A golden scale.

No way. No way in Agni. It was cold and smooth and felt like steel.

"A dragon," Iroh said simply. "I'm tired. C'mon little brother, I'd like to play a game of Pai Sho. I've got a good feeling about this one. Maybe I can finally beat you."

Ozai followed after his brother, clutching the dragon scale to his chest. He had finally identified that emotion he'd felt earlier: admiration.

Iroh was everything a firebender should be. Everything a royal should be. Everything Ozai was not. He was _magnificent_.

* * *

"The key was control," Iroh said, holding up a chubby index finger. "People always say that strength is the most important aspect of bending, but they've never fought a dragon. Overpowering such a wondrous beast is as likely as darkening the sun. A smart bender uses the opponent's strength against him."

Boring. The two were playing their third game of Pai Sho in Iroh's quarters. The room was snug and cozy, full of strange trinkets from cultures around the world. Bone spears from the South, hand woven silks from the Earth Kingdom, and old, lacquered toys from the Air Nomads. Perhaps Iroh kept such artifacts to remind him of how primitive their enemies were. All at least a hundred years behind the Fire Nation. It was a shame, but slaying a dragon would be Iroh's greatest accomplishment. Conquering the world would pale in comparison. Unfortunately, his brother was telling him a heavily revised version of his magnum opus. One did not slay a dragon with a parlor trick like flame manipulation.

Ozai raised an eyebrow, and moved his white dragon tile, capturing Iroh's jasmine piece. The move left a weaker piece to be sacrificed, but that did not concern him.

Iroh surveyed the board for a moment, and took a sip of tea. "You're winning."

Ozai was only winning because Iroh was letting him. It was disgusting. "Tell me how you killed it."

Iroh captured Ozai's chrysanthemum tile and sighed. "It is as I said. I used the dragon's flames against him, wearing him down. The beast grew wary, and eventually fled. The crew gave chase as I slept, until our battle resumed. I had help, the dragon did not, and that is why I emerged victorious."

Ozai moved his rose piece up three spaces, offering it up as bait. "Interesting older brother, but tell me how you took it down."

Iroh sighed, and placed a boat on the board, ignoring Ozai's sacrifice. "You know how I did it. With the cold fire. Lightning."

"Yes! I knew it!" Ozai stood, and started going through the motions of a lightning strike. Separating yin from yang in his body, until finally releasing it as the most pure form of firebending known to man.

"Careful brother!" Iroh bolted from his chair.

Ozai laughed at his brother's worry. "Nothing is going to happen brother. For lightning bending to be dangerous you must have power but no control. My firebending is to weak to explode in my face."

Iroh frowned. "Does it bother you? Everyone calling you weak? How father treats you?" Smoke came from Iroh's fist. "It isn't right! There isn't a bender in this world that trains harder than you!"

"It does not bother me at all," Ozai said honestly. "They speak the truth."

Iroh smiled weakly. "Yes. Yes, of course."

"Being weak is what bothers me," Ozai said. "And that is not anybody's fault but mine. I blame myself."

"Amazing," Iroh said thoughtfully, tapping the white lotus tile against his chin. "When the dragon fell from the sky, and I went in for the kill, I hesitated. I did not want to kill the creature. But something, something beyond me, some other _thing_ compelled me to do it. I regret killing the dragon. I regret it immensely. I've been blaming the _voice_ , but I should be blaming myself. I have evil within me. I must overcome it."

Ozai grinned. More proof of Iroh's greatness. "That voice you speak of was written in Sozin's journals as well. Did you know that he and the Avatar Roku grew up together as friends. Almost brothers? Sozin was never much of a fighter, he had always preferred science to bending. He was the first person to mathematically estimate a comet's orbit. For most of his life, he had no interest in conquest. But eventually he started hearing a _voice_. It compelled him to start the war. It never gave him a moment's peace. It drove him to…"

"Madness," Iroh finished, as Ozai said, "Greatness."

The brothers stared at one another.

"Do you hear _him_ brother?" Iroh asked quietly, almost fearfully. "I know father does. I think that insanity runs in the family."

"No," Ozai said. "Never. I am too weak to be touched by our family's greatness."

He moved his rose tile to the end of the board, and changed the useless piece into a dragon. Someday, just like the tile, he would grow strong. Or perhaps be sacrificed.

Iroh mulled his next move. "If I had it my way it would be you on the throne. What use does a ruler have for bending? Me and father are mad. Since mother died, you've been the only sane member of the family."

Iroh played the white lotus tile. His favorite strategy. The white lotus made the weaker tiles strong. With proper care and a careful eye it could completely reshape the battlefield. From what he had heard, Iroh rarely lost in Pai Sho. Iroh credited it to his unorthodox playing style of coddling the weaker pieces.

Ozai was no fool. He knew who the white lotus represented. Frankly he was insulted by the comparison, for the lotus tile of course. It had a purpose, and in its own right, was a powerful piece. It was nowhere near as useless as Ozai.

"Horrible," Ozai said, shaking his head as he dominated the battlefield. "That's game. When will you give up on this pathetic strategy?"

"Never." Iroh mussed Ozai's hair. "It takes true strength to own your shortcomings. Never let anybody call you weak."

"If you would just give up your sentimentality, you could be perfect," Ozai breathed.

Iroh laughed in his face. "Perfection is overrated."

Iroh packed up the board and left. He had a war meeting to attend with Father, and he was already late. He had wasted Father's precious time for an invalid.

Ozai smoldered. Iroh was so, so close to perfection. His brother had only one weakness: his weak, sickly, pathetic younger sibling. If his brother's soft spot could be removed, the Fire Nation could have its single greatest ruler. And in a flash of inspiration, Ozai knew what he must do.

* * *

The candle flickered in his room, and Ozai inspected his note one last time.

 _I'm called many names. The Cardiac Kid. Invalid. The Weakest Firebender. All true. Through my weakness and incompetence I have earned each and every title. There is only one name which I think is unfair and false: Fire Nation Prince._

 _Every prince before me has been given a great task to prove himself. My older brother, Prince Iroh was tasked with slaying the last dragon. Against all odds, he succeeded, as only a firebender fit to rule the world could. My father, Fire Lord Azulon, was tasked with defeating the Avatar. Before he could succeed, my grandfather Sozin passed away, and Azulon was forced to abandon his quest in place of national duty. I will take up my father's mission. I will find the Avatar. I will challenge the Avatar. I will kill the Avatar. Many will think this task impossible for as weak a bender as me, and perhaps it is. But I do promise you this, Fire Nation, until such a time as the Avatar is defeated, I renounce my right to the throne. If you see me, call me whatever you wish, just not Prince._

Ozai's heart raced. The note was not perfect, it did not convey everything he wanted, but perfection was overrated, and the note would do its job. He would no longer be royal. He would no longer burden his father. His brother would finally be freed from him.

Ozai was surprised to find that he was enthused by the prospect of killing the Avatar. It was every benders dream.

Ozai discovered that he hated everything the Avatar represented. Peace. Balance. Bending itself was an act of unbalance. It was a violation of the universe's laws, and breaking the law led to chaos. Chaos. Yes, Ozai realized he loved chaos. He loved war. It culled the weak, and allowed the strong to realize their greatness. What could possibly be more beautiful?

Ozai realized that he could not chase the Avatar. That was a selfish, childish desire. What his nation needed was for him to build the strength of the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes. He would share everything that made the Fire Nation great with the rest of the world. Science. Education. Empowerment of women. Organized military. Modern infrastructure and production lines. He would do this out of love.

The Fire Nation had almost won the war. The primitive Water Tribes were on their last waterbenders, and Ba Sing Se was the only Earth Kingdom city left unconquered. In a few years, the Fire Nation would emerge victorious. Then what? They would stagnate. With no one to challenge them, the world would enter a period of balance and peace. As if the Avatar had never truly disappeared.

Ozai smoldered.

He thought of Iroh's favorite tile. The White Lotus. What if he had misinterpreted his brother's strategy? Yes, that must be it, Iroh would never display such weakness. Finally Ozai understood what his brother had been telling him. Yes, he would form an organization that would make the enemies of the Fire Nation strong. To ensure that the war never ended. To make sure that chaos emerged victorious. So _beautiful_. So _perfect_. Too perfect. Ozai narrowed his eyes.

These ideas were beyond Ozai's abilities. Perhaps he had finally heard the _other_ that Iroh spoke of. Perhaps, for the first time, he had been touched by the greatness that graced the royal family.

Or perhaps he was mad.

Regardless, it was time to leave. Ozai's quest had finally begun.

* * *

Author's Note: This story takes place in The Last Waterbender universe, although it could easily take place in the cannon universe as well. I've planned this to be a one shot. If you'd like me to continue this story, just leave a review.


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